Last Wish
by Galbasnalgli
Summary: Short story / one-shot. A powerful and tragic chapter from Brisingr, retold from an unexpected perspective. My exploration of what I feel to be one of the saddest parts of the entire IC. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copy right infringement is intended.


LAST WISH

"So help me, if I catch you day dreaming again you young maggot, I'll string you up for going AWOL!"

Paden started at the loud voice and his horse spooked, sensing his rider's sudden anxiety.

"Steady that beast, soldier! What are you always thinking about, anyhow, eh? Busty beauties in your arms, eh? A tall tankard of cold ale, eh? No, don't bother to answer, I expect not. I don't want to know. Likely embarrassing boyish nonsense. The stock they give me to fight a war with, and I'm supposed to help build the great dream? What, out of dung and dirt? What, still there!? Out of my site! To the back of the line with you."

"Sir, I... sorr... yes, sir."

Paden Horundsson pulled his steed to the right, out of the line, and pulled on the reigns to stop. As the procession rode by he covered his nose with his tunic to keep from choking on the dust. The effect was minimal. As the last horse passed him he spurred his own onward again and rejoined the company. At the back. Again.

His horse nickered and flapped its lips, seemingly in disgust.

"At least," Paden thought to himself "back here I can think about whatever I want." The dry, boring landscape had slowly rolled past for hours, without so much as a cloud in the sky to break the monotony. Miles and miles of dusty, empty prairie. Scarcely a farm along the entire patrol route. It made him wonder what was so blessed important out here that anyone needed to patrol it at all. All the commotion and action was far to the south of them, and...

"You know one of these days, 'e's going to get wise and order you to stop your day dreaming."

Paden started again. He looked to the left and saw Alaman smiling at him through his curly beard.

"Then you'll be stuck right here like the rest of us sorry sots."

"By the gods, I hope not" he replied with a grin.

"'S not that I blame ya, of course. I often wish I had your propinctity for escaping your environs and going off where you damn well please. Who wouldn' want to leave this 'orrid land?"

"Propensity."

"Wha'?"

Paden chuckled. "You mean propensity. Nevermind, it doesn't matter. He doesn't have to order me not to do it when he can just hang me from the nearest tree."

"I don' think I've seen a tree capable of supportin' even a feeble example of humanity like yourself in a fortnigh'. Wha's he gonna hang ya from, his 'orse?"

"Don't give him any ideas..."

Alaman snorted. Paden coughed.

"What are you doing back here, anyway, Alaman?" Alaman had been a soldier in the king's army far longer than Paden, and he had enough standing to ride near the front of the column if he chose.

"Aah, sligh'ly less likely to burn back 'ere by my reckonin'" he said. "Towards the front o' the line, you've got the full wrath of the sun all the cursed day long. Back 'ere, there's so much dust above us that I calculate it helps a little at least. A bit like a cloud maybe."

"Calculate. Nicely done."

"HA! Got it righ', did I?" Alaman replied with a laugh. A few men further ahead turned around to look at him to see what had been so funny. They weren't forbidden to talk on patrol usually, but by 11:00 no one had much left to say. Alaman was the only member of the 15 man company who ever spoke to Paden anyway, other than to bark an order or toss a curse his direction. Most simply ignored him.

"So what was it this time?" Alaman asked, more soberly.

Paden sighed heavily. The dust made him cough again. "I was thinking of home. The apple orchard." He paused. "Aydda."

"Aah. Good" was Alaman's only reply. They fell into silence for a time. The both had memories it was best not to dwell on. Alaman more than Paden. That seemed to be the surest reward for serving in Galbatorix's army. Bad memories. Images seared into your brain forever, to haunt you to your last day. Did it matter that they were all under compulsion? That their oaths denied them that most basic right of choice, of right and wrong, of good or evil? It should, he told himself. But it didn't. His conscience tortured him even still. Like the incident day before last when the captain had ordered him to... no. He would not relive that.

The oath. It was the most evil thing he could possibly imagine. His thoughts stretched back to the day three months ago, when he was forced to take it. He'd been delivered by Galbatorix's "recruiters" to a large courtyard full of other men who'd been taken from their homes. An officer in grand looking armor, he never learned his name, addressed the crowd from a raised platform.

"Congratulations! Today, you have joined the greatest army the world has ever seen. Soon, you will take an oath, swearing your allegiance to Galbatorix. Swearing to follow every order you are given by him or his officers. Swearing to live and die for the good of the empire! To build the great dream of our noble king, and make Alagaesia stronger than it has ever been! Today you begin a life of triumph and tenacity! Today you become SOLDIERS!" Here he had paused as if expecting thunderous applause.

Instead, a large, burley man standing two rows in front of Paden had replied: "Piss on your oath. I'll not swear my allegiance to any king or kingdom besides my own kith and kin. Return me to my farm, villain."

A hush fell over the crowd. The officer looked at the man with a gaze of pure steel. He decended from the stage, walked over to the man, drew his sword, and cut off his head. Then, he continued the momentum of his swing, spun around, and stabbed the next man in line through the heart. It had happened so fast, that he had already reached the stage again before the crowd began to cry out and react. He ascended the steps and took his place .

"You will swear this oath. If you do not, I will kill you and the man next to you for your insolence."

There were no more protests. Many had wept as they said the strange words that bound them tighter than chains ever could into absolute slavery to a mad king.

"Stop it."

Paden snapped his head to the left.

"I know wha' you're doin'. Stop it." Paden made no reply. A few more minutes passed.

"Magic." Alaman said.

"What?"

"Magic. Tha' has to be 'ow he's doing it." With a grin, Paden decided to take the bait.

"What are you on about now?"

"That mustache is 20 inches across if it's two. It's go' no shine to it, and it's go' no... bluster."

"Luster." Paden interrupted with a chuckle.

"Shu' up and listen. He's no' using no bees wax tha's for certain. And I've never seen 'im so much as comb the damned thing. It's go' to be an enchantment, that's all."

Paden laughed aloud at this, and got a lung full of dust in return. Through his coughing he managed to croak out:

"Captain Ingmar? A magician? Your dust cloud hasn't kept you out of the sun as much as you think, my friend."

"Now hold a minute, I didn' say Ingmar was a magician now did I? He's had someone else bewitch it for him, tha's what." Alaman swatted at a fly on his leg.

"You must be right. I'm sure the king's magicians have nothing better to do than tend to the mustaches of fashion impaired cavalry captains."

It was Alaman's turn to chuckle. "Righ' silly looking is it no'? But I stand by my..."

"COMPANY HALT!"

For one terrified instant, Paden thought Captain Ingmar had somehow overheard their conversation and was coming to unleash his formidable wrath in their direction.

But no, two scouts were returning to report to the captain on the road ahead. From his place in the back of the line, Paden saw Ingmar nod, clap one scout on the back, and ride out of the line a ways so he could more easily address the whole company.

"There is small farm off the road a short distance ahead." His curled mustache bobbed up and down, like children playing tilt-the-log. "We will break there and water the horses, and take our rations." A small cheer arose from the company. Paden did not participate in it. When the company stopped for something, his life tended to get worse.

A short while later they stopped at the farm. From the look of it, it had been abandoned for some time. Probably since the fighting had begun in the south. Many had fled north to the refuge of the cities for fear the fighting would spread. Many had marched back south wearing Galbatorix's seal on their chests.

They found the well and began drawing out water for the horses. The men gathered in the small farmhouse for a short break from the withering sun. They ate their dried fruit, and dried meat, and dry bread. Captain Ingmar took a flask from his hip and enjoyed several long draughts.

"You there, boy!" Ingmar said.

"Sir!" Paden said, standing to attention.

"Sit down, dammit, we're taking lunch. Useless. I can not permit you to remain so useless boy. You hear me, eh? Understand me, eh?"

"Sir... yes sir?"

Ingmar took another long draught from his flask.

"If you won't be useful to us as a soldier, than why don't you entertain us for a minute?" Several of the man laughed at this. "How about a song?"

"Sir... I don't..."

"Dammit, you maggot, I order you to sing me a song!"

Immediately, Paden began to sing. He had no choice. The first thing that entered his mind was a lullaby his mother had sung to him as a child. Unfortunate. The dust in his throat only made it worse.

"PAAAHAAAAAHAhahahahaha!" Ingmar roared, and most of the men chortled along with him.

"By the king's beard, you sing like a dead cat left out in the sun for a week!" The men roared with laughter again as Paden's face flushed.

"Stop! Stop before we all go deaf!" Ingmar took one more sip from his flask, forlornly tipped it upside down to get the last drop, and then tossed it in Paden's general direction.

"No, you're useless as a singer as well. Come. You shall entertain me another way." He stood and walked out of the house. Paden followed.

"Boy! I vowed that I would make a man out of you, and I shall do it! Come, fight me!"

Paden clumsily drew his sword.

"Not with swords you simpleton, I'd cut you into a dozen pieces!" Again, laughter from the men, who were now mostly outside as well to watch the fun. Alaman stood against the wall wearing a frown.

Paden sheathed his sword and raised his fists. Before basic training, he'd never fought anyone in his life. He hadn't improved much since.

"Come at me BOY! I want to see if there's any spark in you after all!" Mustache bobbing absurdly.

Paden lunged forward and swung at his captain, as ordered. The captain ducked his blow easily and landed a punch to his ribs.

Paden stumbled back gasping for breath.

"Again!"

Again, Paden advanced, feinting with his right hand and bringing his left up towards the captain's ribs. It was a simple move. One they'd all been taught in training. The captain stepped away from the jab, then closed again with a powerful swing at Paden's head.

Paden went reeling to the ground.

"Up, BOY! Trying for my ribs, eh? Thought you could take my wind, eh? Fight me!"

Still dizzy from his last blow, Paden swung hard at Ingmar's head. For a moment he thought he'd struck home, then realized his fist had been caught by Ingmar's powerful hand. In one fluid motion, the captain flipped Paden over his back, and he hit the ground, hard, wheezing through the dust for breath.

"Bah! I would've thought that wench a few days ago would have done you some good. Thought just maybe that's what you lacked to become a man. But you're still as useless as before. You will fight me every day until you grow some grit and learn to pull your own weight in this company." He walked towards his roan charger muttering about the dregs they give him to fight a war with. Paden lay in the dirt.

"MOUNT UP, YOU DOGS!"

Within a minute, everyone was back on his horse and reassembling into the column. In a moment they were underway again.

After a while, Alaman said "You all righ'?"

Paden grunted in reply. His head hurt, and back, but that was not his deepest injury. He had brought it up again. Two days before, on a similar, pointless patrol, they had encountered 3 peasants on the road. Two men and a young woman were headed north on the road when the company overtook them. The men, Ingmar had pressed into service in the army, and sent them back with one of the riders to guard them. The woman... Ingmar had taken her to a small grove of scrub trees and ordered Paden to... He could not stop seeing her face. He had whispered a sincere apology, but he doubted she heard it through her sobs. As if it would have made anything better. Every moment since then had been spent trying not to think about it.

"It's not your fault, mate." Alaman said. Somehow, he'd understood immediately what the incident had done to Paden. Paden loved him for it.

"I know. Still..." he whispered.

They rode on in silence. After a while, Alaman tried to change the subject.

"Wha's that girl's name again? The one waitin' for ya back home?"

Alaman knew her name. "Aydda."

"Aah, yes tha's it. You never told me, what color is her hair? Her eyes? Tell me all abou' her charms so I can be apropridately jealous of you."

Despite himself Paden smirked. "Appropriately? I know you're doing that on purpose. You're probably the smartest man in this rabble."

Alaman smirked back. "Come on, tell me abou' her. Wha's the shape of..."

"COMPANY HALT!"

Alaman and Paden looked at each other with surprise and confusion. Up ahead, they saw the company start forming up into a circle. They took their places in the formation, drawing spears as they'd been trained. In the center of the circle were two peasants. A man and a woman.

"By all the gods, not again. Oh please, not again" Paden began to chant to himself in his mind. Alaman met his gaze and he found a look of concern there.

"Not again, not again, not again, please please not again..."

He heard Ingmar now.

"No, don't bother answering, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters nowadays. The world is coming to an end and we waste our days interrogating peasants. Bah! Superstitious vermin who..."

"oh gods, not again. Not again. Let it stop, let them go, not again, not again..."

..."but maybe a pair of gold candlesticks, eh? Silverware from the locked chest? Secret letters to the Varden? Eh? Cat got your tongue? Well, we'll soon sort the matter out. Langward..."

"At least he's not ordering me to do anything. Not again, please just let them go you bastard. Not again, not again..."

The peasant man staggered forward as Langward struck him cruelly on the back with the haft of his spear. Paden winced. Upon hearing the clang of metal, Langward opened the pack and rummaged through it. He pulled out... armor?

It looked like nice armor as well. What would a peasant be doing with that?

"...a most incompetent mercenary; you don't even have a weapon..."

Ah, a mercenary. But then, why the young woman? He'd met a few mercenaries, but never travelling with a woman. Something didn't make sense. Ingmar was giving them the speech now.

"We are the first army in history to be free of dissent. No mindless blathering about what we should do. Only orders, clear and direct..."

The blasted oath. With a sudden venom, he hated Galbatorix. Hated him as purely as any man has hated any other. Galbatorix was the cause of all of this. The army, the oath, the shameless acts committed by his soldiers, yes even the dust in Paden's lungs. Everything that was wrong with the world was because of Galbatorix.

"As for your lovely companion, there are other ways she can be of use to Empire, eh? Now, tie them up!" Ingmar ordered.

And then he fell from his horse, a hole in the side of his helmet, blood spilling from it.

Paden watched him fall as if in slow motion, wondering whether he needed to dismount and assist the captain. Failing to understand why Ingmar would suddenly fall from his mount.

He glanced inquisitively over at Alaman, and then saw the peasant woman leaping from horse to horse, pummeling the members of the company. She kicked a man thirty feet. Paden's jaw slacked. 4 of the company were already dead, 5. Who were these people?

Fear began to course through his veins.

He called to Alaman, who had dismounted with three other soldiers and was advancing on the mercenary. Paden, too dismounted. He could not see the fight. He moved quickly around his horse to assist Alaman. The other three swordsmen were already dead. How? This peasant had no weapon!

Alaman charged straight at the stranger, sword poised to strike. Faster than lightening, the man struck Alaman in the chest. A cloud of red mist erupted where the blow had fallen, and paden heard several loud "snap"s. Alaman flew backwards a dozen feet.

"Alaman..." Paden whispered. He could tell instantly that his friend was gone. Grief and panic swelled within him as his mind tried to process what was happening. The stranger grabbed his hand and doubled over for a moment, obviously injured from the blow he'd dealt to Alaman. Then he stood up, looked around at two remaining soldiers fighting the woman. And then turned to look at Paden.

Whatever power this was, Paden had no thought of fighting it. He had not been ordered to attack before Ingmar met his end. He dropped his sword, turned around and ran. He held up his hands to show he had no weapon. He called out "MERCY! I SURRENDER!"

He could hear the stranger behind him now, quickly catching up. He was almost on top of him. Paden quickly darted to the left, off the road.

"My name is Paden Horundsson! I'm only 18. Please, I'm not ready to die!"

He darted to the right as the stranger once again closed on him.

"Aydda waits for me. I have yet to marry her and start a family! Please! I have a loving family! I was captured and forced into the army! This is only my 5th mission! I've never killed anyone! I don't deserve death!"

He was sobbing now as he ran. He changed direction again, terror giving him speed he'd never known before. But he knew it was not enough.

"I SURRENDER! Why won't you leave me alone!? What have you against me? I only did what I had to do! I'm a good person!" He tried to say "It's Galbatorix who did all this, not me. Not me... But his throat was sore and his sobs came in heaves as he tried to run.

The stranger slowed down and took a deep breath. Paden slowed too, hopeful that perhaps the man would grant him clemency after all.

"You can't keep up with us. We can't leave you; you'll catch a horse and betray us."

"No! I won't!"

The man sighed. To his surprise, Paden perceived he was no older than himself. Perhaps younger.

"People will ask what happened here. Your oath to Galbatorix and the Empire won't let you lie. I'm sorry, but I don't know how to release you from your bond, except..."

The cursed oath. Galbatorix.

The man did look sorry. Paden thought of how he must have looked when Ingmar ordered him to... It wasn't his fault!

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? YOU'RE A MONSTER!" Paden screamed with every last bit of desperation left within him. He made a sudden, panicked dash for the road, hoping to get clear of the stranger and perhaps out distance him.

It was no use. Paden let out another loud sob as he heard the man... the boy, closing on him again from behind. "STOP! PLEASE! MERCY!" A hand closed around his neck and he jerked to a stop. The grip was impossibly strong. He felt as if he'd been grabbed by an iron statue. He struggled in futility as lights began to burst before his eyes.

In his mind, he saw Alaman crumpled on the ground. He saw the nameless woman, the peasant men, Ingmar. He saw his family's apple orchard in mid October, the trees heavy with delicious fruit. He saw Aydda, golden hair blowing in the breeze, lopsided, teasing smile on her lovely, round face.

Galbatorix. Galbatorix had caused all of this.

As the light faded from the world, his last thought was a final prayer to any god for some kind of justice to be rendered. A wish, a plea, that someday, somehow Galbatorix could be made to feel everything he had felt these last months. That the king would suffer as he had suffered. As all of Alagaesia had suffered.


End file.
